Taxi Ride
by Stella Dellasera
Summary: Another fantasy vignette, imagining what might have happened with Martin and Louisa on that fateful taxi ride home in S1E6 "Haemophobia."
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: She Held Back

"What? No, say it."

It was a long ride back from Truro, the day was getting warm, and they were tired. Louisa had told Martin he had done a very special thing saving Peter Cronk and her advice about letting people tease you had pretty much been the cause of Peter's terrible accident.

"Maybe the truth is that people like Peter, they're… never going to quite fit in.," she said. "They're never going to quite be ordinary. And maybe that's not such a bad thing. And maybe that's why we love the Peters of this world. And maybe that's why… we… or I…" She trailed off.

They were both _so_ bloody tired. She looked out her window and he looked out his, but he glanced down at her hand as it rested on the seat beside him. She pretended to be distracted by the herd of sheep sunning themselves in a field as the taxi flew by but from the corner of her eye she could see him looking down.

He slid his hand over, then retreated. The taxi turned off the main road, toward Portwenn. Then slowly, ever so tentatively, he moved his hand again to brush the side of his little finger against hers, his left hand against her right.

That light, feathery graze was all she needed. It ignited the spark that had been smouldering in her ever since… well perhaps ever since he had peered into her eyes a second time, confidently diagnosed her acute glaucoma, and then turned to glance back as he strode away, shattering his professional façade by smacking straight into a doorframe.

She turned and was on him in a flash, arms around him, kissing him passionately, her heart trilling like a snare drum. He seemed stunned, hesitant for a moment, but before she could even doubt his reaction he was kissing her back, very sure and confident.

They paused for breath, gazing so close, so intimate, into each other's eyes. He seemed about to say something but held back. "What?" she prodded, smiling tenderly.

"Nothing," he said.

"No, say it." She knew what it would be, she was poised to say it herself as soon as he confirmed it.

But he hesitated. "I'm… assuming you have a…regular dental hygiene routine."

Not what she expected. "Pardon? Are you bein' serious?"

"Well, it's just…"

"Well, obviously not in the last few hours but thank you very much yes I have," she replied, confused by the odd turn things had taken.

"Of course. Uh, that would suggest rhinosinusitis or gastro-oesophageal reflux."

It began to dawn on her what he was implying. "Are you sayin' I've got… _bad breath_?" She put her hand up to her mouth.

"I just think it would be wise to rule out infections of the aerodigestive tract."

 _"_ _Oh!"_ The romantic illusion was shattered. Horrified, she clutched her throat and didn't know how to react.

"Obviously, a dietary explanation would be the happiest outcome." Undeterred, his tone remained calm and clinical.

Louisa was so furious she couldn't speak. Her impulse was to tell the driver to pull over and then shove Martin out the door, but she held back. Why, she wasn't sure. Ever since she was a girl her reflex was always to reject and run away from anyone who let her down. Just this once she decided to resist it.

She glared at him and looked down and then out her window, unwilling to meet his eyes. Grey clouds began to roll over the landscape. The rest of the ride took place in stony silence.

Fortunately, they were almost home. The driver slowed as he made the steep descent into Portwenn, then up Roscarrock Hill to the first address he had been given. Martin shoved a wad of notes into the driver's hand (Louisa was sure it was more than even the cost of the long ride plus generous tip had warranted) and got out.

She saw that the Large and Sons van was parked alongside the silver Lexus at the surgery but Martin seemed not to notice anything. He wearily stepped up onto the stone terrace and then stopped short. The front door was wide open. Bert Large came out and was talking in an animated manner.

The taxi driver started up again but Louisa asked him to wait a moment. She wasn't sure if it was out of a sudden pang of pity for Martin or simply curiosity about what was going on. She got out and darted up to the open door.

Bert was babbling on. "So you see Doc, we thought we took care of the problem a few weeks ago but it seems there's one more faulty joint in the plumbing, and, well, when Elaine got in this morning she found a puddle in the kitchen and we all heard what happened last night with the Cronk boy and you not being here she just called me and Al to come take a look and she went home, figuring you wouldn't able to have surgery hours today anyway."

There seemed to be more than a puddle as Louisa could see the leaking water had made its way into the reception room and there was a loud clanging coming from down the hall, no doubt from Al working on something.

"The water's been turned off and we'll have the problem fixed in just a few hours," Bert said reassuringly.

Martin did not seem reassured. Louisa feared his temper was about to explode but he just ignored Bert and stared into the front door, mutely and without expression. Light droplets of rain began to fall on them but still he didn't react.

"Just go on and get it fixed then, Bert," she told the plumber.

Martin was clearly exhausted. She took him by the arm and steered him back to the taxi. He passively obeyed. She directed the driver to Rose Cottage, where they got out. She unlocked the door, and guided him through. He seemed barely conscious enough to avoid hitting his head on the low doorway.

Once inside, she guided him to the lounge, with the idea that he could nap on the sofa. However, once she got him there he stared at the sofa uncomprehendingly and she realized it was too small to possibly allow this tall man to lie down comfortably. She sighed and realized there was nothing for it but to take him upstairs to her bedroom.

He stumbled up the stairs with her and she moved him toward the bed, left rumpled and unmade from the night before. She managed to get his jacket off and laid it aside as he practically fell on top of the sheets. She pulled his shoes off and threw the duvet lightly over him. She contemplated him for an exasperated moment, unsure what to do next, then headed to the bathroom.

She brushed her teeth thoroughly and rinsed with mouthwash. Then she slipped off her clothes into a pile on the floor and got in the shower. The hot water was exquisite, just exactly what she needed at that moment. She felt that pang of pity for Martin again, thinking how he must have been looking forward to a hot shower and his own bed after the stressful night, only to be denied these simple comforts.

Next she towelled off, slipped on her fluffy robe, and ran the hairdryer through her hair, not bothering to pull it smooth and straight as she normally wore it. She padded downstairs in her slippers, now thoroughly awake. She scrambled an egg and made some tea and toast and sat down to enjoy it, wondering if the breakfast scents would rouse Martin. She knew he liked coffee in the morning but she dismissed the idea of making anything especially for him. Anyway, she didn't have any coffee in the house. She lingered over her breakfast, browsing through some paint and wallpaper samples (she had been thinking of redoing her bedroom in shades of rose red), but couldn't concentrate.

Still no noise from upstairs. She tidied up and wondered what to do next. She wasn't in the mood for the telly and couldn't go out without getting fresh clothes from the bedroom.

She paced around, busying herself with a bit of housework but she couldn't stop thinking about the man in her bedroom. Every nerve seemed focused on her physical proximity to him, in the kitchen she was the farthest away and when she moved into the lounge she was aware she was that much closer to him. She sat on the sofa, contemplating how big and tall he seemed in relation to it, and then she glanced up the stairs. It was maybe 20 feet to the bedroom, but really the bed was directly above her, _he_ was directly above her, no more than 12 feet away she calculated, wondering why it seemed to matter. She went upstairs to the bathroom, thinking she was now about 10 feet away, even less if you figured he was just on the other side of the wall.

Examining her teeth in the mirror, she decided to brush again, flossing too this time, and rinsed with the mouthwash again, and then a third time. She drummed her fingers on the sink, then ran them through her hair. She decided she had to get dressed for the day and that meant, Martin or not, she needed some fresh clothes.

She went into the bedroom and just stood there, a foot from the bed, looking down at him. This bizarre, brilliant, _infuriating_ man. He was normally so neat and formal, so in control of everything, except perhaps his temper. Now he lay on her bed, dishevelled and exhausted, in T-shirt and trousers, seemingly comatose, except at some point he had thrown off the duvet and pulled one of the pillows under his head.

She sat on the bed, now just inches away from him.

 _To be continued..._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: She Held Back Nothing

Martin had been having strange, restless dreams. Louisa was in his bedroom, kissing him, but then she turned into a dog; then he was in an ambulance and had to operate by putting his hand right into Peter Cronk's abdomen; he was sitting on a bench and Louisa was leaning against him; Adrian Pitts was smirking at him and then Joy Cronk was hugging Pitts; then he was in a taxi and Louisa kissed him again but she turned her back on him. No wait, he told himself, some of those things had actually happened, except… Louisa turning into a dog, that couldn't be real.

Then he was at the surgery cottage, where Bert Large was a giant portly penguin in a knit hat, who came out the front door squawking and flapping at him, denying him the refuge of his own home. Obviously not real either, except there apparently had been some plumbing havoc in the surgery.

But that taxi ride, Louisa had definitely kissed him and he kissed her back, and then… and then… there had been some sort of earthquake that roared through the taxi and caused a rift between them. Hard as it was to admit to himself, he knew he had somehow caused that disaster.

And yet now he was here in her bedroom, in her _bed_ , inhaling her scent which was a blend of soap, shampoo, and possibly either perfume or hormones, he wasn't sure which, but it made him pull her pillow close to him and bury his face in its soft depths. He felt he could happily stay here forever.

And then she came into the room. His eyes were closed, but he could feel her standing there, just a foot away. Then she sat on the bed, just inches away. He opened his eyes but couldn't meet her gaze. Slowly, ever so tentatively, he slid his hand toward her. She began to move her hand, her lovely, perfect hand, toward his, meeting him more than halfway. The tip of her finger grazed the side of his hand. He found the courage to look up at her and she was on him in a flash, holding back nothing, kissing his forehead, his nose, his mouth. This too had happened to him before in a dream, and the same ecstatic moan escaped him, "Oh… _Louisa_."

Her robe was open, completely baring her body to his touch. She was pulling his T-shirt up and unbuckling his belt and trousers, her lips were all over him.

It occurred to him that her breath was as sweet and fresh as could be and he didn't mind it at all. He became acutely aware that, having been up all night, and it was now many hours since he had brushed his teeth, his own breath was likely not so sweet, and yet she didn't seem to mind at all.

Grasping his arms about her, he rolled her to the side and moved atop her, ready to bury himself in her soft depths, and again he moaned "Oh… _Louisa_."

Suddenly, the bed hit a bump.

Martin's head snapped upright and his eyes opened. It had been a long ride back from Truro, the day was getting warm, and they were both so very tired. Had he said her name out loud, he wondered, embarrassed to think he had been dreaming while sitting beside her. Only moments awake, he could now barely remember any specifics of the dream but he drew his jacket over his lap to hide the reaction it had given him.

Fortunately, Louisa seemed to have nodded off herself and had just awakened to her own post-dream state confusion.

They were both _so_ bloody tired. She looked out her window and he looked out his. But he glanced down at her hand as it rested on the seat beside him. Her lovely, perfect hand. She seemed distracted by the scene outside as the taxi turned off the main road, toward Portwenn, but his hand was drawn to hers like a magnet to steel.

Slowly, ever so tentatively, he moved to brush the side of his little finger against hers, just the lightest of grazes. She turned and was on him in a flash, arms around him, kissing him passionately. He was stunned at her instant reaction but it ignited a spark that had been smouldering in him ever since, well perhaps ever since he first saw her on the airplane flying into Cornwall.

Before he could even think he went to kiss her back, very sure and confident it was all he ever wanted.

They paused for breath, gazing so close, so intimate, into each other's eyes. Then, just as he had been distracted on the airplane by glaucoma symptoms in her eye, he was distracted by possible symptoms now.

He held back what had popped into his mind. "What?" she prodded, smiling tenderly.

So he said it.

Louisa couldn't speak for a moment, then she couldn't hold back her fury. "Stop the car!" she ordered the driver. She opened the door and shoved Martin out to the road.

"Uh…Louisa?"

She ignored his perplexed protest. The driver smirked, probably happy to have some juicy gossip to relay to his mates down the pub, and the taxi took off.

Abandoned to his fate, Martin felt crushed. Then he looked about, just to reassure himself no one else had witnessed his humiliation on this deserted country road.

Then he straightened up his jacket and his posture to resume a semblance of dignity, and scrambled up a gap in the hedgerow to get his bearings. The village was within sight and he recognized the hillside where he was. From out of nowhere that grey shaggy dog appeared, wagging its tail as if it had been waiting for him. For once, Martin felt almost glad to have the beast as a companion. Together they set off for home.

 _The End._


End file.
